Tag Archives: dark

My Adidas

 

Sometimes your stride pattern is just as important as your shoes. The worn soul of mine meant all I had was my stride. All I had were stops and starts, long presses and short taps, perhaps they were Morse code to the universe, calling out for a new pair.

From the miles I have walked, the only thing I would wish upon anyone is the beauty of acquaintances providing rest from the intense heat.

Having made many strides, in recent times I found a formidable adversary that challenged me to dance down treacle-filled streets with concrete blocks strapped to my feet.

Even with two shoes as two sides to a story, my truth in all of this was that I had to Get Out. Clearings that energised me to walk a certain way were blocked or simply no longer existed.

I’d been here about 14 years ago yet I’d forgotten what the storm felt like. I forgot the scar caused by the lightning, I forgot the days of darkness and how I would have to keep my eyes open, fighting with the same fingertips I was holding onto my sanity with.

Every now and then my eyes would mistake a candle for the sun, yeah… I’d been here before. How many more strides could I get through?

Ask a friend, ask an adversary?

She sipped tea like Miss Piggy proved Kermit was cheating.

Stirred it now and then to keep me in a hopeless place.

My records laid before her showed my performance was ace

12-and-a-half years a slave, I took my calls and beatings.

When Liberty shook her bell I ran away, to freedom

The universe stopped re-healing my shoes and sent me several new pairs. The equilibrium has changed, I drive instead of walk, I have new scenery to take in and understand.

Even though lightning left a deeper scar from the second strike, I know that the path I am on is one that is made for me.

New shoes, my strides, in the words of Nas….”Whose world is this?”

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Filed under Non Poetic Blogs

6/ 30 Cloudy Reign

Russian doll rulers
A Dinosaur Dynasty
Blacker than Black crime?

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Random Poetics

Unwanted

Sometimes….I feel 

Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

Liquid flames cased in power puff names
Pains engaged to a hair trigger guage
Distorted inceptions and schools of disdain
Encumber my soul with melodic chill blains
I’m lost in ill gains, strapped to real frames
My electric lion flow has been tamed
Trying not to settle, my earth has been maimed
Dying to be a tribute act though I lit my own fame
Scarred with in sense, I stink out the game
My knowledge they deem is too out there for in-game
My mettle’s twisted so I touch my in sane
My pane is transparent and I’m the heir apparent
I’m all gassed up as his history I parrot
I’d snap the neck of every clock for every time I wanna garrot
A strap line that entwines my heart to this brand cos

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

A rodent on the wheel of fortune, running
Sporting a back pack of rations gunning
chasing the mirror till it falls off bloodied
To applause and jeers of is that all he studied
chased the pack catching all the nuts n ruts
he swivelled the inflection yet the echo stayed put
he, broke his back to heal men when hell was afoot
yet sparing no change he felt only rifle butts
Bayonets to the gut, enoch’s rivers were his blood
speech, so flowing were his veins
You were nothing but hanging mucus when needed
nothing but a bane so

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger
An embryo

Ineffectual vibrations preach wisdom to holed walls
Disrespect migrates, generational roll calls
Keep picking up the phone hoping my garden grows balls
Bog hands noting the viscosity of snow fall
Naked can I handle when the stalactites fall
I’ve got a mouth of stalagmites but no choir on which to call
They’ve got no room for my range I’m just a car left to stall
My bairns bereft of heart set to crawl
Supposed grab life that ain’t even a trip for me to fall
So I scribe symbols in the dirt, scriptures for you all
cos

Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudderless child
Sometimes….I feel
Like a rudder less child

Sometimes….I feel
Like a fatherless child
A lone stranger

A vogue stranger
A known angel
Unwanted

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Filed under Just Living

Windows Pique

Pondering whether this question is worth the retention,
Are the women in my history worth the mention as extensions.
Of my person / ality, fallacy and banality.
Am I real meat or is my plate quite salady
I herd them like cows you see just to keep moo/vin,
saying there’s a lesson to be learned as I let them all move in.
What am I proving, made music with a few till the plate stopped grooving
Maybe I was feeling a micro wave
Major played
The timer stopped like a shot clock, maybe I had no balls in the clutch,
I was a great catch on the rebound,
They talked double and passed my dutch around
Sold my soul for 7 pounds and 18 datees,
Wondering have I reached womanhood or just Johnny come prematurely
Mostly raw see
I mastered baiting them, surely I must be rated,
Family berated
X’d my morals rated,
Ecstasy constipated cos no one gave a sh*t
When my shoulders became the problems I formed a new funk agenda,
No more lady Godiva peep hole survivor,
Horse face riding commando ghosts
Black Jasper had to make the most
Had an atheist make me baby sit her history
She sledge hammered my ankles,
I had to slap shot her mind and call it a wristory
Threw me into plexi glass, stalked me with her puck
This was a midsummers nightmare and she ain’t give a f**k
So black I was bluck, got Nigerian female Goodfellas with my pen
Stabbed her with my trunk again and again
Territorial punk, spike haired, Nike air Mckenzie
Holding to affection dysons
Lost in a vacuum of viral spasmodic bursts of jungle fever
No spark was the billboard yet nobody brought the ether
Gassed like a white Jew wearing FUBU in the holocaust
I roasted like a negro from the south for the burning cross
Set fire to my oil fields like Iraqis to raise the cost of this rarity
Leg over the next one, cum inside her for prosperity
Preached to her spinal cord, while getting watered by ass tap
I turned on Mary Shelley, made her monster feel art felt
Yet she wanted my wax work hoping twat would make my heart melt
So I ripped out her insecurity and chewed its cartilage
Spat it in her face and told her where the pity market is
I’d been sold on a gallery of panthers, I was panda meat
A baboon who’d pandered now has the genes of Frankenstein
I am Frank incensed with murmurs
I am so raw I’m pink inside but if I was white I’d be nada
Claiming time ain’t even the armour for my reserves to play smarter….
I re draw stigmata replaying the stigma of my past
Who is the extension of who? Can I retract my magnetism
Or do I have to attract what isn’t to attract my vision
Till you arrive you’re a literary incision, a punchline on a bookmark
I’m a lover and a firefighter, the king of iron fist’s blood spark
Now ignite.

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Filed under Relationships

Million Ways

Million Ways:

(Me)

Fighting on inches when moments would suffice
Head lies crawl through the epidermis
The sperm is energized like electrons
Neutrons spin in frenzied atomic glee
Singing I wish I could be free like the Legend of the John
Pimped out by spinning pulsars watching orderly stars exist
Why dost normality persist when fantasy is evolution
Champagne supernova is the solution
Get drunk on revolution
See banality is pollution yet everybody acts clean
Out of vented spleen windows are cleaned
They say you gotta die to live and I’m a suicide fiend
A homicidal maniac, a sniper of actuality
Breaking souls with a sentence, killing them with logical sanity
Remixing their incarnations with intonations of moon.
Saying there’s a million ways to die but I’d rather make the vultures swoon….
For Me

(Jodi)

I play hooky from he that is death
Outta breath
Living life in more seconds than time allows
Never picked the short stick,
But fate got a case of hate and I continue to raise my brow
Wonderin what he up to now
Attacks are coming
When, where, why and how
Knife stabs and low jabs
Swollen face for tryin ta face em…
Head on
So I headed on
Unconsciously warned
Scorned
For thinking I controlled life just cause I was born
Torn
Between the plots he plans
Tryin to get a grip
But he has a full house
So I gotta fold in my hand
Tryin to find an angle
But he 180’d my 90
Supa fast like whip lash
Premonitions thrown out with the trash
And he straightened out my hindsight and blinded out my future so I couldn’t see
Leavin me empty
Reached in my stash
Tried to pay death off but he wanted souls not cash
There’s a million ways to die…
I wish he’d just choose one…

(Me)

I stabbed her with visions of my past pain till she sang soprano
The modals of her yodels burst my banks
Blood money was the currency of thanks for her mirror
Jagged souls sang as they passed port to the fast lane
Concorde to the last gain, last cause, jungle wars
Stalking perception with no pause
Animal instincts on all fours I was used to wound licking
She said there’s a million ways to cook chicken
8 bullet barrels in a pistol with one trigger
6 letters make a nigger
Yet he needs four to live as she reached out in the dark
Saying I am Wrigley Field, I am Fenway Park
Step up to the home plate you can feed your flame in the dark
For even bats can see play or be played off the park
Her eyes pierced like a shot in the dark
All I heard was the swish before she swayed in an arc
She died giving rebirth to me
To love myself was her last respect

(Jodi)

Respect paid
Body laid
With a million ways he chose to torture me
Net caught my life before he set me free
Now I have nuttin left but respect for thee
Embracing the elevated view of the scene before me
He was the owner of a life that made living weak
Pain’d by those who’d never “circle and inner Y”…Pump peace
His hunger for death led an attention craving frenzy
Embodied John Gotti
Mafia controlled following bodies
Held the hand of the clan
Whispered a little hate and reeled ’em in
Train derailed music and gangs
Started an epidemic that’s killin men and can’t be contained
His gift is quite precise
Slashing unity with rigged dice
Political gambles and fights over raising oil’s price
With the world in his hand
He plucks away a few each day
You can choose the trick
Cause he’ll treat ya a million ways…
Choose One!

Adrian “Poetic7” McKenzie/Joanna OrJustplain Jodi Collaboration © 2011 All Rights Reserved

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Diary

7 December 2009

He cut a disconsolate figure, proud black felt like a silhouette,

He’d once stood like a minaret, dressed minds like vinaigrette, yet he got tossed like salad and got smoked like a cigarette

Everybody called him Nicorette, his hope came and stayed in patches

He never lost his fire to inspire, in spite of job matches that didn’t see him as a catch

His

Mind never dropped the ball

Head was a whirlpool of hard falls, and big walls

Glass ceilings and doors, familial wars and sores from the pores opened up through feelings of being poor.

December 8, 2009

Felt like every time he tried to work the magic his electricity attracted energies that made him static not ecstatic

He wanted to be ex static using his laboured fruits to gain current, stay current, never need to be a feign lover, always a main lover, man you had love for

Big Brother, future husband, the brightened son that eclipsed the moon and made her beautiful

Inside he stayed truthful like the ocean knowing she will never be a dry mass

He took another class to be class, never cut class as while steadily defining his shape

He was blooming late photosynthesis took place at sunset,

The power of his flower was not enough he needed a run & gun threat

Less heart more head, of logic he was the balanced vet in the game

Politics was a sweet science like boxing yet he fought at range

His jabs hit veins but rarely drew blood,

He was an artist that couldn’t always harness his true love

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